


Business Associates

by AmethystLuna



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Adult Content, Body Horror, Gore, M/M, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystLuna/pseuds/AmethystLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parvis shows up in Sips' office one day with an odd request for help after a run in with some questionable villagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Associates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractalanatomy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalanatomy/gifts).



> [A/N: Inspired by wacky supernatural RP shenanigans. This is Sips as portrayed by fractalanatomy, all credit to them for the characterization used here | Background music: “I’m Afraid” by Econoline Crush]

Of all the things Sips expected to see on his desk, one A C Parvis in an oversized trench coat was not one of them. The reasons were multitude but the first that came to mind was that although employed at Sipsco, Parv was never at the factory. Parv was his man in the field, a door-to-door salesman for the company and occasional ideas man. Usually unconventional, he did still surprise Sips by popping up with clever suggestions from time to time. One of those was how he got hired in the first place; some odd predicament that Sips didn’t recall the details of had rendered the bloodmage into the form of a ghost, and it was while Parv had happened by to “haunt” Sipsco that he had brought forth the idea of grave dirt as a viable product. Sips had embraced the concept with open arms and offered the sales position to Parv on the spot – who better to represent the product than a dead man? Parv didn’t _stay_ dead, but he kept the job when he rejoined the realm of the corporeal.

He kept up pretty good numbers, too. Sips remembered their toast over the last set of quarterly reports, almost about to smack his lips at the recalled taste only to press them together from misgivings instead. Parv wasn’t allowed near the liquor cabinet after that.

The businessman cleared his throat to chase away _that_ memory, loosening his tie as he rounded the desk. “Well well well, here’s a sight I rarely see. Are you wearing your birthday suit under there, or do you have some new product showcase ideas again?” Sips shucked his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair, expecting the latter while unabashedly hoping the former. Parv was also the only employee Sips had never been able to get his hands all over. When Parv drew a line he didn’t let _anyone_ step over it. Sips could respect that.

Didn’t stop him from being curious about what it _would_ take for the shorter man to change his mind. He knew Parv could flirt, had tried to work on him from that angle, but there was always one more retort from the bloodmage that stopped everything cold. Sips could also respect that.

So, he patiently waited to see what explanation Parv had for parking himself on the boss’ desk at this hour. He seemed in good spirits. The usual careless grin wasn’t present but there was an amused air about him. And…something else. Sips sniffed and could swear there was a whiff of…

His lip curled. Freshly seared flesh. He made to grab the front of the coat to yank it off of Parv but the other man held the lapels tight with one hand, raising the other to ward off his boss. Sips took an indignant step back, folding his arms across his broad chest and giving Parv a stern look.

A disturbing mirth filled the bloodmage’s voice. “Did you know that there are weird Testificate death cults? Because I didn’t know there were weird Testificate death cults. And they _really_ don’t like even just the _suggestion_ of replacing their infernal burial ground soil with other dirt. Like, a simple _no_ would do from just about _anyone_ else on this planet, but these guys, wow. They didn’t like it _at all!”_ He giggled. There was an unhinged edge to it that made Sips loosen his arms in case he suddenly needed to defend himself. He knew better than to underestimate anyone regardless of how they looked. Or sounded.

“Par-vis,” he enunciated slowly, “What. Is un-der. The coat?”

“They didn’t like me, Sips. How can anyone not like _me?_ I’m such a fun guy! And who gets _that_ offended over dirt?? Hey, I’ll admit that sometimes I think this whole thing is a sham because. Sips. It’s _dirt._ How the hell did you make a business out of selling _dirt?_ Hats off to you for it but all the same, man, maybe I can’t blame them for—“

“Parv. Shut your damn mouth and show me what they did to you.”

The bloodmage gave a small amused snort and untied the coat’s belt. Sips sorely wished there was a completely different reason for him to be disrobing while perched on the desk but the thought was pushed away as he caught the scent of burnt skin again. Then pretty much all thoughts vanished as he saw the wreckage that was Parv’s torso, several large incredibly profane and complex sigils carved into it that were glowing a foul shade of orange at the edges. Sips could see into the man through them, bits of savaged bone and innards sitting like a lumpy puddle of different paints dumped together.  He wondered if all the organs were even still in there. Then, less fancifully, he wondered how Parv was so damn _calm._

“FUCKIN – _Parv!_ How the hell are you walking around like that?! Jesus, what are you, some kind of zombie? First a ghost, now this— Do you _ever_ just die and respawn like _normal_ people?!”

Parvis shrugged. His maimed insides sloshed around from the motion but didn’t seem able to leak out. His face finally became serious. “Well, boss, I seem to be dead again.”

Sips’ face went flat. “You… … Yeah, I think you are.”

“By the way, so far you’re the only one who can see me.”

Oh.

“And _you_ recognized this just now, didn’t you?”

Well.

Sips didn’t even try to deny the hint. He fully removed his tie then leaned in for a closer look. The sigils hadn’t just been burned into Parv’s skin, the brands themselves had been shoved in there and were sitting in broken, cursed chunks amongst his organs. Well, those definitely had to come out first. “What the hell did you even say to them, Parv? You seriously offended them. You know, sometimes you should at least _try_ to think things through before you spew what’s rattling around your noggin.” He began to run a finger along the edge of one sigil and quickly realized he wasn’t quite touching it, more like phasing through it. Sips made a face; that better not be a portend to how this was going to go. “Okay, so, does it feel like this is your whole body or do they have a shade of it back in Bumfuck County or wherever ?” He paused to make another face, this time to chastise himself over the technical terms involved in this ritual. “Look, are you just a ghost again _here_ or are you a ghost back _there?_ Because thiiiiis looks like they marked you for keeps. _”_

Parv glanced down at himself, the amusement creeping back into his expression. “I think I’m somewhere in between in both places. And trust me, I’d rather go through respawn than be stuck. Again.”

All right. That sort of helped. “Great. Great.” Sips unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and carefully rolled up his sleeves, an unnecessary action but it bought him time to think. He doubted the cult knew anything at all about the founder of this Sipsco that Parv had tried to sell to them from, but the audacity of the branding irked him.  Even though he hadn’t been able to claim the bloodmage there was still a bit of entitlement. _How dare you. This is MY employee. No one else is allowed to do this-this bullshiiiiiiiiiiiit._ He blew an aggravated breath out through his nose.

He was going to take Parvis back, dammit.

“All right, just sit still there for a minute.” It took maybe fifty seconds of concentrating on the ugly orange light for Sips to _shift_ from the current plane into the strange pseudo-existence that Parv was now occupying. With fingers that now exhibited a metallic sheen and a crimson light suffusing part of his form, Sips began prodding the edges of the shaped punctures, testing if he could make physical contact with them now. Satisfied with the tangibility, he wormed one hand through and pried at one of the metal pieces lodged in the outer lining of Parv’s right lung. The bloodmage giggled as if the other man was merely tickling him instead of rummaging around inside his body. An extra row of sharpened teeth clenched as Sips hissed at him, “I said sit still.”

He yanked the piece out without warning as if hoping to bring a reality check. Instead Parv uttered a brief “Oof” and tittered again the second Sips reached back in. The so-called businessman worked carefully to remove the rest of the broken brands, laying each piece on the desk beside Parvis to make sure it spelled out the heretical words in their entirety with no part missing (not that Parv would be disappearing/reintegrating into a full form if there were any left inside). The accompanying giggles disturbed Sips most of all. What was Parv even made of that he could stand this? He was beginning to think the man was only an assembly of madness shaped like a person and there was no actual Alex Parvis.

Heh, well, he couldn’t exactly judge.  
  
Picking one last sliver out of the bloodmage’s pancreas – and shoving _that_ back where it belonged while he was there – Sips watched for the orange glow to flicker, signaling a gap in the curse. He uttered a handful of blasphemous words in tongues no mortal ear was meant to hear and the edges turned into spitting embers, like water poured over hot coals. Then the damaged parts inside Parv began to shift back to where they belonged. Sips leaned his head sideways to watch the procedure through the narrowing gashes as the pale skin also knit back together. He figured the bloodmage’s guts would finish rearranging themselves correctly even after they were covered up. He rocked back on his feet with a sigh, _shifting_ back to the regular plane of existence. He rolled his wrists and flexed his fingers a couple times to get a feeling of attachment to his human body back.

Another burning smell hit Sips’ nose, this one of manufactured substances melting. The brands. Dammit. They had reformed into one infernal clump on the desk top. He snatched up the hunk of metal and whipped around, searching for a place to throw it. Rip in pieces, container of soil sample two fifty-six dash eight. The dirt would stop it burning through anything else until he could properly dispose of it, preferably by shoving it up the ass of one of those Testificates. Maybe wiggle it around really good while it was up there, too. Sips sucked at his fingers to ease the sting, removing them to examine what was just as quickly a disappearing mark before he threw a frank look at Parv. He planted his hands on the desk to either side of Parv’s hips, peering into his eyes for any sign of other surprises. Or possibilities. The opportunity was still there, after all. Having been rooting around in the bloodmage’s innards moments ago didn’t change other facts.

“You owe me, Parv.”

“You’re still not getting in my pants, Sips.”

Well, at least the disruption had been a break from the mundane. Life could be too predictable sometimes. He could always count on Parv to crop up with something out of left field.

“Right. How about you go take five in the warehouse and I’ll sort out a refund for our customer after the trouble you caused them.” Sips glanced over at the dirt container, a dark smirk curling across his face. He _could_ go investigate this infernal burial soil for himself. Might be a market for it.

~End~


End file.
